Aftershock
by Dfsemina
Summary: Ib handled herself well in the gallery. But she is still just a little girl. She needs support. Try as they might, her parents cannot understand. She needs Garry. But a young man hanging around a child is unconventional. Her parents, especially her father, attempt to find common ground in which they can all give her the support she needs and deserves.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I know I shouldn't be starting another story while I'm still working on another one but the words just don't seem to want to come out the way I want them to. Also, having more than one project helps me out a lot. I can switch between them whenever I get writer's block, which will inevitably happen. I hope you enjoy this. I seem to be on a roll lately with writing. The plot bunnies keep attacking me.

Besides, Ib's parents need more love. I don't think they have names so I gave them some. Let me know if they do have official names.

* * *

Chapter 1

Ezekiel and Vivian Gallagher were worried. Their daughter had not been sleeping well. For the last five months she had woken up screaming, yet she refused to tell them what was wrong. Their daughter had always been quiet and very independent for a child her age. They had assumed her nightmares were a phase that would soon pass. But they were wrong. They were as often as ever and seemed to be growing in intensity. Some nights she was unable to sleep at all, and it was weighing upon her. She seemed to be withdrawing into herself. Though caring, she had never been a social child. And now, it seemed she was isolating herself.

They sat in the living room. Ezekiel held the newspaper open in his hands and his wife held a book in hers. But they were not paying any attention to the words on the page. They stared at them blankly as their ears were focused solely upstairs to where their daughter slept. The night before had been especially brutal. She had barely gotten an hour's worth of sleep before she woke up in terror. She did not even notice her parents' arms wrapped around her as they attempted to comfort her. They had tried to call out to her, to shake her lightly from her trance, and had finally been forced splash ice cold water on her before the faraway look faded. Afterward, they had stayed with her until she fell asleep, reading her favorite stories and singing her lullabies. It had taken her hours to fall asleep and she had still been tossing and turning restlessly.

It was early afternoon now. She had been sleeping for nearly nine hours and while they were glad she was getting actual rest, they worried for her health. Still, they hoped this instance of sleep was the precursor to things returning to normal for her.

"AHHHHH!"

They both jumped up immediately, taking the stairs two at a time to reach her room. By the time they opened the door she was sitting wide awake in bed, sobbing. Ezekiel pulled her against his chest as Vivian pulled her hands away from her eyes and tried to squeeze them comfortingly with her own. Ib's cries died down in volume but she continued gasping and hiccuping. She still couldn't stop crying.

Vivian was crying now too. Ezekiel clutched her tighter, frustrated her could do nothing to protect his daughter. He rocked her softly back and forth as her sobs slowly subsided. They stayed sitting there for a long time in silence.

"Ib, sweetie? Please tell me what's wrong," her father mumbled softly.

He could feel her stiffen and almost regretted asking.

She shook her head adamantly.

"Please, dear," he insisted, imploringly. "I—we—just want to help you."

She shook her head again.

"Dammit, Ib! Just tell me!"

She froze, eyes wide. She looked like she was going to cry again.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated, honey. I want to help you. But I don't know what to do. You have to tell me or I can't do anything."

She shook her head again, slowly, sadly. And for the first time that day, she spoke.

"You can't."

* * *

They were sitting in the living room, watching Ib playing quietly with a stuffed bunny. She looked so miserable. She had bags under her eyes which no child should ever have. She moved sluggishly, with a quality that made her seem so tiny and hopeless. It looked like she would collapse into herself and disappear. She hadn't smiled in months. They didn't know what to do anymore.

_Ding dong!_

They jumped. They did not expect any visitors today. Ezekiel got up and answered it, while his wife continued to watch their daughter worriedly.

It was a young man. He had dyed purple hair with black roots beginning to grow back in. He wore a tattered jacket. He held a bag in his hand. He stared at him surprised. He definitely was not from their neighborhood.

"Good afternoon, sir," the young man began, obviously feeling awkward. "My name is—"

"Garry!"

The two parents stared in bewilderment as they watched their daughter come alive again as she launched herself at the stranger. He knelt down, returning the embrace and chuckling.

"Good afternoon, Ib."

She burrowed her head into his chest and mumbled a happy reply.

"It's good to see you too."

"Ib? Who is this?" Vivian asked, glancing back and forth between her daughter and the young man.

Ezekiel intervened. He tugged Ib from Garry's arms and held her tightly to him. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. He did not notice the panicked expression on Ib's face as he pulled her away.

"Yes, Ib. Who is this man?"

"It's Garry," Ib stated impatiently. She held out her arms towards him pleadingly.

Garry merely shook his head with a small smile. "That's okay, Ib. It makes sense for them not to trust me. They don't know me."

"Indeed, sir. How do you know our daughter?"

"It's _Garry_," Ib repeated, as if that explained everything.

"We met at the gallery. Um, the Guertena exhibit? She was browsing and asked me to explain some of the more difficult titles words."

Ib's startled mother relaxed. "Well, in that case, thank you. I'm Ib's mother, Vivian. That's her father, Ezekiel. Would you like to come in?"

Before he could even think of stepping through the door, Ib's father blocked the way.

"That still doesn't explain why you are here," he snapped. "How did you know where we live?"

"Ib invited me. Also, I need to return something of hers."

"I can return it," he held out his hand. "Why do you have anything of hers in the first place?"

"Oh, Zeke. Just let the boy in. He can explain inside."

Reluctant and suspicious, Ezekiel stepped away from the door. Garry entered, shooting nervous glances at Ib's father. Vivian ushered him into their living room and offered him a seat. He took the seat out of courtesy, thanking the woman. He still felt uncomfortable. She handed him a glass of water and he forced the liquid down the lump in his throat. Ib, taking her chance, hopped onto the couch and took the space next to Garry. He winced inwardly. He just knew her father wouldn't like that. He sat awkwardly in the silence.

Ib tugged on his sleeve. He turned his attention to her for the first time since he had greeted her.

"Are we going out for macaroons now? You promised."

Though he didn't see it, he knew her father had shifted in anger and surprise. He could feel sweat spring up upon his forehead.

"Not now, Ib. I just―," he floundered, trying to get out of the situation.

That was when he finally looked down―really legitimately _looked_―at Ib. She was as cute as ever. That childishly hopeful look was endearing and he did not want to say no. But he still would have if he didn't notice the flash of desperation in her eyes. It was that barely there flash of pleading need that prompted him to pay Ib the attention she deserved. She looked tired, exhausted even. The dark circles under her eyes were obvious now that he looked. His mind replayed her actions since he arrived. She had been slumped slightly, a stark contrast to her usually proper posture. As soon as she realized it was him, she had perked up and greeted him. She had clung to him as tightly as a child her age could. Ib had hugged him when, in his insanity, he had almost left her alone in the gallery. She had never hugged him since then. Not even when they had escaped from the gallery. She'd been trembling when he greeted her today. And then he knew. He knew she was not okay. That she needed him. That she was just as haunted, if not more, as he was by their time in the gallery. So he answered in a way that would comfort his little friend, even as he knew it would enrage her father.

"I mean, sure. Why not?" He looked up at her parents and added, "Why don't you two come also? My treat."

" That would be lovely! Let's join them."

Ezekiel relented under his wife's easy acceptance. "Fine, where's your car?"

Garry startled. "Sir? I don't have one. I walked here."

The man's gaze turned disapproving. "You were going to have us _walk _there, even little Ib?"

Garry froze. He hadn't thought of that. He thought they would walk over, chat, and catch up. Besides, Ib had more endurance than he did, as he knew from experience. While after a while he had huffed and puffed, Ib had retained her brisk walk and continued to lead. And he needed to take _two _steps to match one of his own. "It's not far. But I suppose you're right. Maybe next time, then."

"Yes, well. You have no other business then, I assume. Why don't you give Ib what's hers and leave."

Garry gazed imploringly at Ib's mother. She seemed much more agreeable than the man who was currently glaring at him. She met his gaze and smiled.

"Zeke, he's still just a boy. He probably isn't even old enough to drive."

"How old are you, then?"

"Eighteen, sir."

"He's old enough then."

"Only barely, dear. Why don't you drive all of us? Garry will give us directions, won't you?"

"Of course."

And thus began the most awkward fifteen minutes of his life.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the extra note here. I think this is off to a good start. I just know her father is a papa wolf. I've always envisioned Ib's mother as an absolute sweetheart and eventual IbxGarry supporter. She has that husband of hers wrapped around her finger. That's going to help Garry out in the future.

In either case,

Until next time friendlies!

Thanks for all the support.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.

Chapter 2

Garry sat with Ib in the back seat. She seemed to be back to her normal self. Her posture was impeccable. She had a small smile on her face and her eyes sparkled in excitement. Aside from the dark bags underneath her wide, twinkling eyes she seemed absolutely fine. Garry's eyes turned to the back of the seat in front of him. He was tense, understandably so. Looking at the mirror, he could see the man's eyes were on his daughter. His gaze was relieved, soft. Garry could tell he had been worried for the girl. As he continued watching, her father's eyes shifted and from his glower he could tell he was looking straight at him now. Subconsciously, Garry sat up straighter. He wanted to leave a good impression on this man that Ib loved so much.

* * *

They finally arrived at the little cafe. He stepped out of the car, walking around it and opening the door for Ib. She thanked him gratefully. Upon seeing this, her mother smiled widely and her father cast him another withering glare. They walked into the cafe ahead of him. As he made his way to the entrance, he stretched his sore limbs and took a deep breath. The whole fifteen minute ride had been excruciating. He had been sitting with better posture than he had ever attempted in his life and as air filled his lungs he was sure he hadn't taken a single breath. He sighed and prepared himself for an awkward hour with Ib's family.

He stepped into the cafe, the chimes above the door signaling his entrance. Ib was looking through the glass at the confections. Her mother was bent over, speaking to her. Ezekiel was looking around disapprovingly. Garry walked up to them.

"Are you ready to order?"

"Why don't you order for us? We've never been here."

"Sure. Go ahead and pick a table."

Garry walked up to the familiar cashier. "Hey, Rick."

"Hey, Garry. The usual?"

"Yeah. Times four please. I've got company."

"I saw that. You got it."

Garry grimaced when he saw the price. Rick laughed in response before stepping away to prepare his order. He waited at the counter, stalling the inevitable confrontation. The order came too soon. He felt like he was on death row as he marched to the small table by the window. The only thing preventing his hands from shaking was the tray which he was balancing four smalls plates with macaroons and four heavy mugs of tea. He placed the tray on the table.

Garry felt better as he watched Ib perk up in her seat and stare at the desserts. The discomfort was definitely worth it. He served the table and took his seat next to Ib. Garry focused all his attention on the girl beside him. It could be considered rude but the awkwardness was just something he could not take any more of. Besides, this trip was supposed to be for just the two of them.

He watched her turn her plate, staring intently at each macaroon. He grinned at the gesture. That was just like her. Staring was like her trademark. And the deliberation in her choice. She picked one up, turned it around in her hands before before lifting it to her lips. She hesitated, instead holding it underneath her nose and smelling it, eyes closed. She placed it carefully back onto the place. He was sure it was in exactly the same position as when she had taken it. Her eyes met his and unknowing of what she desired he merely smiled encouragingly. Seemingly satisfied with his response, she returned her attention back to her plate. She picked up a pastry adjacent to the previous one, turned it in her hand, then put it back before plucking the first one up and taking a bite. Her eyes widened and she turned to him excitedly.

"It's good!"

"Right? They're my favorites. The one you just ate is Chocolat Passion, or chocolate with passion fruits."

She looked down speculatively at the one in her hand. The cookie bases of it was yellow and speckled and between the two was chocolate cream.

"It really does look like a hamburger."

"Yeah. Well, these ones do at least. You saw all the other ones too, right?" Seeing her nod, he continued. "They come in a bunch of different colors."

"What kinds are the other ones on my plate?"

He pointed them out in clockwise order around her plate. "There's caramel a la fleur de sel which is caramel with salted butter. The other two are chocolat and cafe, respectively. I bet you can guess what those two are."

"Chocolate," she stated confidently. Then she seemed less certain. "And... coffee?"

"Yup. Good job."

She glowed under the praise.

"Ahem." Ezekiel let out an obviously fake cough. His wife smiled abashedly in her seat, apologetic.

Garry reluctantly brought his attention to the other two at the table. "How are your macaroons?"

"Lovely, thank you."

"They're fine," he admitted, grudgingly. He wouldn't act like a child. He was against Garry, not this establishment.

* * *

They had finished their snacks and were now sitting in silence. Ezekiel continued to glare at Garry while Vivian sat quietly, smiling and waiting for another topic of conversation to begin. All of their attention turned to Ib as they heard a soft thud. She had fallen asleep, body falling to lean on the window. Her breaths were even, fogging up the clear glass. Those awake at the table met eyes, wordlessly communicating that it was time to leave. Garry reached towards Ib, planning on picking her up, when her father caught his arm and shook his head. Garry followed Vivian to the car while Ezekiel carried up his daughter. The car ride was silent. Nobody wanted to wake up the blissfully sleeping child. Arriving at Ib's home, Ezekiel carried his daughter to her room, the other two following. The couple tucked their daughter in as Garry watched from the doorway. Still silent, the left the room, waiting until they were all downstairs before speaking.

Garry sighed. "It's good that she's getting some rest."

Ezekiel snarled, "How did you know she wasn't sleeping?"

Vivian stepped in, placing a hand on his arm to calm him. She murmured quietly, "It was obvious wasn't it?"

Garry nodded his head.

"Why are you so concerned? You don't even know her really. You just explained a couple of pictures to her. You act too close to her."

"I'm her friend."

"You're _twice_ her age!"

"That doesn't matter!"

"It's unnatural! It makes no sense! It―"

He was cut off by a scream. Ib was awake. Everybody dashed up the stairs.

* * *

A/N: And there's the second chapter. Ib's father seems cruel and hotheaded. I'll tell you now that he typically isn't. But he loves his daughter and is acting like the papa wolf he is. The man is typically nice (at least the way I envision him) but right now he is frustrated, angry, and stressed. After all, his adorable lovable daughter is hurting (and we all know Ib is adorable) and has been hurting for months and he hasn't been able to do a single thing to stop it.

Not to mention, a strange man has appeared that is obviously close to his daughter. (Sorry for calling you strange Garry, but that is how he sees you...and you kind of are.)

In either case, it seems like I'm on a roll tonight. Pumped a couple chapters out and the flow of inspiration is still going. I'm off to work on the next chapter.

Until next time friendlies!

_Dfsemina_


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.

Chapter 3

Ib was still sleeping when they barged into the room. Garry slammed the door open in his haste, though the bang did nothing to wake her. She was clutched in the grip of a nightmare and it wasn't letting go. Her father shoved passed him and pulled her to his chest. Vivian followed, running her hand through the girl's hair comfortingly. But their attempts had no effect. Ib persisted in her broken sobs, writhing in their arms.

"We need to wake her up."

"We know! We're trying."

"She won't wake without some sort of shock," Garry stated from experience. He could never get out of a nightmare without being shoved into awareness.

"I'll get the water," Vivian said and moved to get up.

"No need. She's going to be miserable and probably hysterical when she wakes up. She doesn't need to be soaking wet and cold on top of that."

"Then what do _you _suggest we do?"

Garry didn't answer. He plucked Ib out of their hands and tossed her up above him as one would a toddler. The sensation of falling. It never failed to wake him up. He was glad his bed was so small when his own nightmares started. He would always roll off in his sleep before things became too bad. Ib let out a startled gasp on her way down, eyes opening. He caught her easily. She struggled in his grasp and he shifted her so that she only occupied one of his arms. Reaching down into his pocket, he pulled out a lemon drop. He fumbled it open clumsily with one hand and promptly slipped the candy into her mouth. She stilled, the taste registering.

"Garry?"

"Another nightmare?"

She nodded.

"Good thing I had another lemon drop then."

She favored him with a small smile then. He was glad that he had been able to wake her before the dream became too severe. He ran his fingers through her hair, untangling the mess it had become in her tossing and turning. She curled up against him, hiccuping breaths finally returning to normal. He nuzzled the top of her head and asked her if she felt any better. She nodded affirmatively into his chest. He told her about his day before he came to visit her, forgettable nonsense that would go in one ear and out the other but that would take her mind off the nightmare. She nodded politely, though he could tell she was not paying attention. By the time he got to the part where he came to her house, the tension in her body had finally subsided.

"Finished with that lemon drop?"

She nodded again.

"Why don't you get some sleep then? You hardly got any."

She stiffened a bit. She looked like she could cry again any second.

"I _want_ to," she murmured so softly it was barely audible. "I _need_ to sleep. I know that. I want to sleep so much. But I'm scared. All I get are nightmares."

He smiled sadly. "I can't promise you won't get another nightmare. But I'll be right here if you do. And I'll do anything I can to prevent them. Won't you try?"

She still looked uncertain. He tried another approach.

"Okay, you don't have to sleep. But I want you to rest, okay?"

"I'll try."

"Good. Now get comfortable."

She shifted so she her head was directly against his heart, still curled up.

"I want you to close your eyes. Take deep, slow breaths. Now I want you to count."

"Count what?"

"Anything. Counting is enough to occupy the mind but tedious enough so as to not strain it. It will let you rest."

"What 'tedious'?"

He chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. "It means boring. But it also kind of means natural in this case."

"Natural?"

"Like breathing, you know? It comes naturally. You don't really need to think about it. It takes enough concentration that you can't focus on your fears but it comes so naturally that it lets you get your energy back."

"Okay. Anything?"

"Yes, Ib. You can count anything you want."

"Your heartbeats?"

"Go ahead."

She closed her eyes and did as he said. Soon her forced deep breathing became genuine. She slumped against his chest, fast asleep. He stood still for a while, making sure she would not awaken again. He slipped her into bed, ticking her in. Her brushed stray hairs out of her face, then turned to leave the room. And froze. Her parents were staring at him in unhidden awe. He gestured them to follow him into the hall.

He didn't let them get a word in. "Thank you for allowing me into your home. I'd best be going. I'll let myself out."

* * *

Garry stepped into his apartment, exhausted. He flopped onto the couch, not bothering to take off his coat or turn on the lights. He gazed vacantly around the sparsely furnished room. Though weary, he was restless. He groaned as he got off the couch and walked into the kitchen. Glancing into the refrigerator and finding nothing, he opted instead to get a glass of water. As the glass filled, his mind wandered. All he could think about was Ib's parents. What would they think? He was a stranger as far as they knew! There was no way they would let him near their daughter again after the familiarity he had shown. The first thing he should have done after leaving her room was apologize to her parents and defend his actions. He scowled, the idea left a bad taste in his mouth. Apologize for helping Ib? Never! He didn't feel like he had anything to apologize for, even though it was probably the best thing he could have done to salvage her parents impression of him. He could see, under the obvious shock, resentment in Ezekiel's eyes and worry reflected in Vivian's. They didn't trust him.

The water grasped his attention again when the liquid overflowed and soaked his hand. He began gulping the water down, images of Ib flashing through his mind. Ib's tears rolling over her cheeks. Trembling. Struggling. And most prevalent, her haunting screams of despair. So drenched with hopelessness. He had never heard such a desperate sound come from her lips. Even when she had broken down in the gallery, she had never seemed so lost, so hurt, so vulnerable, or so weak. Garry slammed the empty cup down on the counter, suddenly furious.

He should have been there! It had been months, _five months_, since they had left the gallery. How could he neglect her like that? The gallery had done a number on his mind and he had not even considered the effect it would have on Ib. He corrected himself. No, that wasn't quite right. He'd overestimated her. She'd handled herself well throughout the whole ordeal. Much better than he had, that was certain. She had taken much of the craziness in stride and had even kept him grounded. Though he was the adult, _she _had led them. It was her that guided them the way they needed to go. It was her with all the ideas that saved their lives. He had _deluded _himself into thinking she was unshakeable. Invincible, even. He had made himself believe that she was fine, unaffected, even when _he _still had trouble coming to terms with what had happened. Ib was strong, impossibly so, but she was still a _child_. He could imagine all the fears plaguing her, compounding in strength until it resulted in the lackluster, nightmare-prone girl he'd glimpsed this day. His ire faded under the weight of his guilt and sadness. Ib needed support. Support only he would be able to provide with their shared experiences. He intended to be there from this moment on. His thoughts flickered back to her parents. They would not want him near her again.

Well, he guessed he would just have to beg. He would be there for his little friend, no matter what.

* * *

A/N: Well, this one feels short. But according to the word count it is in the ballpark of the others. It looks like everything is finally laid out on the table to get legitimately started on this fic. Yay!

Duke Serkol: You've jumped the gun on me. Part of your question was answered here. But there is a bit more to it. Look forward to it. (That is, if you decide to continue reading this.)

This is as far as I'm going to get for now, but look forward to the next chapter.

Until next time friendlies!

_Dfsemina_


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.

Chapter 4

Ezekiel was conflicted. He couldn't trust the scruffy young stranger that had interacted with his daughter so intimately. A man of nearly twenty had no business involving himself with a young girl of nine. The familiarity between the two worried him. His dear daughter had always been reserved. The statement that they had met in the gallery did not seem to be false. But that particular family outing had only lasted two hours. The first hour Ib had been given free reign but the second hour she;d been accompanied by her mother. Assuming she did not meet him the second she wandered off, that gave them less than an hour's worth of interaction. He acknowledged that his daughter was the type to ask if she was curious, lending credibility to the claim that that was how she had met the man. However, Ib had never taken to anyone's company so quickly. The man seemed too close to his daughter and quite obviously wanted to stay that way. It didn't add up at all! He wouldn't let him take advantage of his little girl!

His fury weakened as he watched his daughter run around the backyard with her mother. That was the most energetic she'd been in months. Not to mention the most _normal_ she's been in months. She'd been getting progressively worse. The nightmares had seemed to get worse with each night, draining the exuberance and everything else that made her herself away. And this progress had only been gotten once that man had appeared. He did not want to rely on someone else to soothe his daughter's fears. That was his job! But the boy had some connection with her that allowed him to be what she needed. Could he really take that away from her? No... he couldn't. As angering as it was, he could not protect his daughter this time. He would let the boy heal her, comfort her. But he was resolved to keep an eye on him the entire time!

* * *

Vivian was relieved. Though it was tinged with uncertainty. For certain, her daughter was looking much better. She was sure that night her dear daughter had finally gotten the rest she needed and deserved. But nightmares that severe did not just go away in a single day, she was sure. What if that night had been a fluke? Would the poor girl be plagued by such violent nightmares for the rest of her life? She shook off the troublesome thought and continued chasing after her child. She was playing with her daughter right now. The girl was happy. She would take this time for what it was and not let any negative thoughts taint it. She could not predict the future, so she, along with dear little Ib, would enjoy the present.

* * *

The doorbell rang. Ezekiel allowed himself a final glance at his two favorite girls before he went to answer the door. He choked down his annoyance as he opened the door to the man from the day before.

"Boy," he greeted, succinctly.

"Garry, sir." he corrected, nervously.

"I know."

"Is Ib in?"

Ezekiel balled his hand into a fist. He wanted to continue to lash out at the man as he had before. He reminded himself of his decision to let him into her life, at least temporarily. But he would make his feelings on the matter perfectly clear. And he wouldn't make the boy's―_Garry's _he corrected himself― time in his presence easy.

"She is," he admitted grudgingly.

Garry shifted uncomfortably. He realized he would have to pull the permission to see the man's daughter out of him word for word. "May I see her please?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

Garry barely was able to hide his displeasure with the response. He answered boldly, "That isn't an answer, sir."

The man's scowl deepened. "Come along then."

As he turned, he slammed the door straight into Garry's face, emphasizing his disapproval on the matter.

Garry knocked again.

"It's open," he shouted gruffly. He'd invited him in already, he wouldn't hold the door open for him too.

Garry opened the door and followed quietly behind Ib's father. The man led him out the entrance to their backyard where his wife and daughter were still playing tag. Garry stood beside him and watched the two play, his eyes trained solely on Ib. Seeing her this happy after the incident the night before brought a fond smile to his face. It did not go unnoticed. Ib's father fumed silently, eyes never leaving the man's figure. Garry watched as Ib tackled her mother, sending them tumbling and resulting in uncontrollable laughter for both. He chuckled. But even as watching his carefree friend play lightened his day, he could not ignore the hostile stare of the man beside him. He continued watching them play a while longer before the gaze became unbearable. Finally, he sighed and turned to meet the angry father's eyes.

"You look like you want to say something, sir."

The glare intensified. "I don't like you around my daughter."

Garry bit down on his tongue to hide his indignation. He would never hurt Ib! But he understood the man's concern.

"I would never hurt your daughter," he stated with conviction.

If anything, her father looked even more alarmed. He bit out, "Aren't you a bit too old for her?"

Garry blinked in surprise. _That's _where his thoughts were heading?

"Sir," he sputtered, "She's only nine!"

"Exactly."

"Where in the world would you get that idea?"

As if the world wanted to prove Ib's father right, Ib noticed Garry right at that moment and promptly tackled him down in a hug.

"I love you, Garry."

The response was innate, automatic. He reciprocated the embrace as he stated, "Aww. You're so cute! I love you, too."

Then he stiffened. That certainly didn't help his case, did it? He could almost feel the heat of the fury emanating from her father.

"Good afternoon, Garry."

He stood and greeted the girl's mother as she walked over to meet them. While her demeanor was welcoming, he could see the worry still in her eyes. He was sure he was going about this the wrong way if he wanted her parent's trust, but his entire reason for being there was Ib. He got down on one knee to meet her at eye level.

"How are you today, Ib?"

"I'm fine. Are you here to visit?"

He could not contain his smile at seeing the hopeful look on her face. "Yes. I'll be here for a while actually."

She was practically glowing. She smiled up at him, completely content to merely stare happily at his face, in a way only she could.

"Staring really is your trademark, isn't it? What would you like to do while I'm here?"

She grabbed his hand and led him into the house. She brought him to her room. He was aware that her parents had followed and were currently watching the interaction from the doorway. He stood and looked around the room as she rummaged through a trunk at the foot of her bed. He hadn't gotten the chance before. It had been dark and he'd been distracted by his distraught friend. The room had stuffed bunnies everywhere, of varying styles, shapes, and colors. There were even some bunny sculptures of stone, wood, porcelain, and glass. The room itself was large. Spacious for anyone, let alone a single child. The bed looked like it could fit eight of her comfortably, if it weren't for the numerous stuffed bunnies on the bed. They were arranged in a circle, like a nest, with an Ib-sized hole in the formation where he was sure she slept. His surveying of the room was interrupted as Ib tugged on his sleeve to gain his attention. She led him to a low table and emptied the contents of the box she retrieved onto it. Garry stared at the pieces of white cardboard in front of him.

"A milk puzzle?"

* * *

A/N: And there's the fourth one. I'm really getting into it now. The next chapter I'm working on seems like it could have been part of this one but then it would run a little too long. I should have the next chapter up tomorrow or the day after. If things go incredibly well, it may even be up later tonight. No promises though, of course.

Ib's father has grudgingly accepted Garry's aid. Ib's mother seems resigned and grateful for Garry's support as well. Let's see what kind of feelings are invoked by doing a milk puzzle next chapter, shall we?

Ib's father is definitely not an IbxGarry shipper.

Thanks for following and reading this. I'm glad people like it.

Until next time friendlies.

_Dfsemina_


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.

Chapter 5

Whatever Garry was expecting was definitely not this. He looked across the table at his friend. She smiled at him uncertainly, the implications of the puzzle not lost on the astute child. She wanted to do this, but she would leave the choice up to Garry. He couldn't understand why she would want to do the puzzle with the connection it had to their past. They'd come across a framed one soon after escaping an enclosed area with deadly headless statues chasing after them. He'd pointed it out and babbled nonsense in an effort to calm himself down and distract Ib, at least momentarily, from their predicament.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Are you sure you want to do one of these? Doesn't it bring back... bad memories?"

She shook her head. "The connection to the bad is there... but this memory is _good."_

"How?" he asked incredulously. How could anything in that damnable gallery be good?

"For that moment, everything was calm. Just a frame, with a harmless blank puzzle. And you were there, stumbling over words. Explaining it to me, even though this time I hadn't asked. Trying your hardest to distract me from the bad, even when you were terrified yourself."

For a while, Garry could only stare at Ib in awe. It was the longest statement that he'd ever heard from the quiet girl. It showed the maturity she held, uncommon for her age. She'd noticed what he'd been trying to do. Garry felt a lump form in his throat. He'd kept his sanity by hating the experience, by putting it out of his mind, by comforting himself with the idea that they'd escaped. And this adorable child across from him had seriously taken it to heart. She had the presence of mind to sift through the bad and find the good. She'd found, and stubbornly held onto, the hope and beauty in the situation. She didn't want to _leave_ the experience behind, she wanted to _learn_ from it. To internalize the lessons found within the ordeal and strengthen herself. It was truly outstanding. And suddenly Garry felt small and insignificant but undoubtedly inspired.

"You're amazing, you know?" he stated weakly.

Ib blushed at the compliment and shook her head.

"I mean it. To find something in that and see it as good. I couldn't find a single thing in that experience that I could call completely good, or at least not without a doubt." he admitted shamefully.

She didn't like seeing him so low. She insisted, "There are a lot of happy memories if you look for them."

"Like what?" How many more happy memories could she possibly find in their ordeal?

She stated firmly, proudly, "I met you."

Garry's eyes widened in surprise and he smiled. "And I met you."

* * *

Vivian and Ezekiel stepped out as Garry and Ib's conversation faded in favor of putting together the milk puzzle. The air was heavy around them as they lost themselves in thought. The conversation had been undeniably serious. Though they couldn't think of a single opportunity for Ib to experience hardship akin to the one she'd implied in their conversation, it was obvious it had somehow happened. Ib's words had been unexpected. She'd never been the talkative type. But the way she had articulated her feelings had been crystal clear. Their baby had gone through something without them, something horrible, and she was handling it well. And Garry had been with her, had given her the strength to get through it. The pair was a unit and their solidarity was striking and unshakable.

* * *

They worked through the better part of the afternoon putting the puzzle together. Sociable Garry had talked through the process while quiet Ib had listened attentively, only slipping in comments rarely. Garry had arrived late morning but by the time they'd finished, orange light was filtering through the gap between the drawn curtains. Garry stood up and stretched, sore all over from staying in one position all day long. He looked down at Ib who was still sitting down next to the finished puzzle. She had an accomplished smile on her face.

"We did it, huh?"

She smiled back. "We're both smart then, right?" she stated referring to their original conversation on milk puzzles.

"Yup."

Her eyes fell onto the puzzle again and she frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"It's kind of...boring. Like you said."

He barked out a laugh. "Yeah."

"It needs a picture. It feels...empty." her voice became sad by the end of her statement.

Empty. An empty canvas. _Mary._ She was thinking about Mary. He'd tried to forget, but Ib still saw her as a friend, albeit one she was forced to take down. Allowing the memories into his head objectively for once, he acknowledged that what happened to Mary was sad. She hadn't been real, not in the sense that they were real anyway. But at the same time she had been. He remembered looking around the floor where her painting had hung. He remembered the book, still open upon her floor, _How to Make Friends_. She'd had feelings. She'd wanted and loved the same way they did. Her creator, the great Weiss Guertena, had made her real, pouring more feelings into her than his other creations. Gifting and cursing her with the feelings of a real human being. She must have felt so alone, surrounded by creations he made with one emotion or idea in mind. They could not possibly understand her with their limited perspective. Of course she would want to get out. To find others that felt the way she did. She had pursued them, attacked them, relentlessly. But he could see now that it all was fed by her desperation to become real, to taste the life that she was created to feel. To have friends, to have family, to grow up a normal child. Whoever controlled the world had made mistakes with Mary. They'd created a being with so much potential for love and life but had made its very existence wrong. They'd made her have so much will for life but made her destined to be deprived of it. And Garry finally felt what Ib did. He felt sadness, loss, and regret, not for burning a priceless painting, but for taking the life of a dear friend. He needed to reconcile and he knew the way to do it.

"Hey, Ib?"

She looked up at the sound of his voice.

"I think you're right. Did you know I'm an artist, or rather, I'm aspiring to become one?"

She shook her head.

"How about I put a picture on that puzzle?"

She jumped out of her seat and began rummaging in her trunk again. She pulled out a palette and a set of oil paints victoriously and handed then to him. She dove back in and emerged with a set of brushes. She reached in again once more with shaky hands as she pulled out several different palette knives. She handed them over carefully, all too familiar with what it could do to skin if force was applied to it. He accepted them gratefully. He'd been surprised that she'd had art supplies on hand though he probably shouldn't have. Ib was from a wealthy family. He assumed she'd shown interest in art, which had probably led to her parents buying her the supplies and their trip to the gallery where they'd initially met. He shooed Ib out of the room, stating she should eat since they'd skipped lunch in their preoccupation. Then he set off to work.

He painted three clear glass vases. Each contained a single rose. The first one was a young rose, barely bloomed and small. It had few petals but was obviously healthy. The second one had a blue rose, mature and fully bloomed. The last one was perfectly symmetrical, unnaturally so. But it was still beautiful, vibrant. It was bright yellow and the petals had patterns on them, the single leaf on the stem had texture that seemed forced. It was as if it were made of cloth, as if it weren't real. But looking at the painting they all looked like real living roses, a matching trio. One would have to look deeply to see the difference. He was sure Ib would. He used his brush to fill the first two vases with water but left the last one empty, emphasizing that the final rose was not the same. Then he got to work on the most important aspect of the painting: the people. He started with Ib. He painted her into the first vase. She floated in the water, hair flayed out around her head, the fabric of her clothes rippled where the water's movement creased it. Her red eyes were kind and shone with intellect. He tried not to feel embarrassed as he painted himself into the second vase. He was curled up a bit in the cramped space of the vase. He was floating too, clothes and hair given volume by the movement of the water around him. Then, the final vase. Mary's vase. He painted her standing. Her back was turned. Her wavy blond hair billowed down her back. Her emerald dress was old-fashioned and full. If one paid attention they could see that between certain strands of her hair were flashes of blue, suggesting that she wore a scarf around her neck. The final touch was a sliver of silver paint that was a palette knife clutched in one of the hands that she held behind her back.

He left the painting in the room to dry as he sought out Ib. She would want to see the finished product immediately. He found her in the living room, sitting on her father's lap as he read her a story. He interrupted him as he started a new chapter and informed Ib of the painting's completion. She hopped off and grabbed her father's hand, pulling him with her. She beckoned her mother to accompany them with a gesture of her other hand. They entered the room and Garry led them to the table. Vivian gasped in awe as she saw the image. Ezekiel's lips parted slightly in surprise. Ib was the last to see it, having to climb up onto the chair to get a good view of the puzzle. When she did, she froze. Her eyes widened and her hand reached out. It stopped just short of touching the wet paint. Her fingers hovered over Mary's figure. Wordlessly, she turned around in her chair and hugged Garry who was standing behind her.

Burrowing her head into his chest, she murmured, "Thank you."

* * *

A/N: Wow. It looks like tonight was just a night for progress.

The image that Garry painted was inspired by (and almost completely follows) this image I found on tumblr, which can be found on my profile.

Yes, I sympathize with Mary. I never want to get an ending where Garry dies but I do think it is unfortunate that they both couldn't live with Ib at the end. I always thought of Garry as the artsy type. So in this chapter we see Ib's maturity, Garry's artistic talent, and growth all around. All characters learn a bit here. And Mary gets the attention she deserves without being cast as the one dimensional bad guy.

I think I'm tapped out for tonight. Thank you so much for reading.

Until next time friendlies,

_Dfsemina_


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.

Chapter 6

They had thought she was getting better. The nightmares had been less severe and her pale face had begun to regain color. But it was obvious something was still undeniably wrong. She had calmed a bit since Garry arrived, they had been able to pull her out of her nightmares and calm her down. But tonight, it seemed like nothing they did could calm her down. It was painful to watch her. She was awake, no longer bound by the nightmare, but her terror would not cease. Ezekiel stood at the doorway, watching his sobbing wife plead with their daughter who struggled in her arms. But all the little girl did was cry out.

"Ib, please calm down. Please." Vivian was reaching for her, pulling at her, trying to get her baby safely within her arms.

Ib twisted out of her mother's arms again. She burrowed herself into the corner of the room, her eyes wide and fearful. "No, no, no! You aren't―you're not―I―I―I don't believe you!"

She'd been crying for the last hour without signs of calming. She had not reacted well to either of them.

He winced as she screamed that they weren't her parents again. She'd been repeating variations of the same thing since she'd awoken. He glanced out the dark room into the hallway, eyes falling upon the telephone. An idea sprang to mind and held. He shook his head, he didn't want to. As Ib screamed in protest to her mother's begging again, his jaw locked and he left the room. He stood in front of the phone, debating. They didn't need _him_. He heard Ib hiccup her way through another sentence, culminating in a sob. He picked up the phone and dialled. If they didn't calm her down soon she would start hyperventilating.

* * *

_Ring!_

Garry stirred in his sleep.

_Ring!_

He groaned and turned over in bed.

_Ring!_

He lay flat on his back, looking up irritably at the ceiling.

_Ring!_

With a frustrated sigh, he got out of bed and stumbled groggily over to the phone.

It took him another three rings for his half-awake self to pick up the phone successfully.

"Hello?" he snapped, voice cracking. He cleared his throat as he waited for the reply.

"Ib had a nightmare."

The hazy quality of his thoughts cleared instantly. "I'll be right there."

* * *

Ezekiel leaned against the wall by the door, waiting for Garry to arrive. He called him an hour ago! Finally, Garry knocked. Ezekiel opened the door and Garry hurried passed him and into Ib's room. He followed.

Entering the room, Vivian's eyes met their's, hopeful. She stepped away as Garry approached Ib.

"Good evening, Ib." he greeted her as cheerfully as he could.

She seemed to push herself farther into the corner. He kneeled in front of her and held out his arms. She curled up and whimpered.

"Come on, Ib. Don't you want to come give me a hug?"

"No, no. You aren't my friend!"

Garry's smile wavered then dropped as he sighed. He reached out, grabbing her firmly by her wrists. She tried to pull them back to her chest, only succeeding in bringing her closer to the man. Garry maneuvered her so that both wrists were held within one hand and his arm was around her back. He pulled her close. He shushed her, pressing her hands and head to his chest. She continued to struggle.

"Shh. It's me, Ib. It's Garry. Shh. I'm real. Can you hear it? Can you feel it?"

Ib stilled and Garry remained silent. Moments later she had thrown her arms around him and crying in relief.

"That's it. Just calm down. Everything's okay."

"They're," she murmured quietly. "They're not my parents."

"Are you sure about that? I believe them. Why don't we check?" Garry replied, gesturing them closer.

Ib's frightened gaze darted between her parents and Garry.

"It's okay. If they aren't I'll pull you away, alright?"

She hesitated but nodded. Garry picked her up and stood in front of them. Her uncertain eyes took in his encouraging smile and she turned to them. Two trembling hands reached out, finding their place on her parents' chests'. She held them there and her frame slowly stopped shaking. Her tense frame relaxed. Garry loosened his hold on her as she tackled her two parents down in a hug. She held onto them, whispering "They're real." over and over.

* * *

They'd all been sitting in silence in the dining room, drinking tea. Everyone had left the dark room, hoping to calm down with a drink in the well-lit room. The tense silence was broken with a soft thud as Garry's head came to rest upon the table, fast asleep. Ib hopped out of her seat and left, returning promptly with a blanket. She dragged her seat over and stood upon it, needing the extra height to wrap it around her dozing friend. She sat down in her new position so close to him. A fond smile on her face, she reached out, tucking purple strands behind his ear. Then, she sat back, eyes darkening.

She whispered, "Garry's too kind."

Ezekiel merely frowned. He would not say anything against him tonight.

"It was kind of him to come so late." Vivian agreed.

She shook her head, guiltily. "He must be so tired."

Ezekiel attempted to reassure her, "He came of his own will. This surely didn't take much of his time."

She persisted, shaking her head fervently.

"It's not that big a deal, dear," her mother added.

Ib relented, though she did not agree. She chewed absently on her bottom lip. They hadn't noticed but she definitely did. Amidst the turmoil of waking from the nightmare, she saw the exhaustion on his face. Her chaotic emotions had obscured his image and dulled her ability to observe, but looking back with a cleared head now it was obvious. Guilt swept through her. He'd been overly warm, as damp with sweat as she had been upon waking. Heart thudding rapidly. Chest falling with quick, heavy breaths that she could hear. Gravel in his voice, as only deep breaths of cold night air coupled with an already dry throat could produce. When he'd picked her up off the floor, his muscles spasmed under the new weight and recent intense use. He'd come for her, ran to her rescue, and he hadn't wasted a single moment. She pulled the blanket back over a shoulder it had fallen off of and made sure to tuck it in carefully. Garry's home was far.

Guilt of a deeper sort settled within her, regret burdening her little shoulders. Though she felt bad that she had disturbed her friend from much needed sleep, she could forgive herself after seeing how willing he had been to help her. She could almost think of herself as less of an inconvenience when she thought back to his encouraging smile and the proud look he gifted her with when she had mustered the courage to confirm her parents' identities. But she had caught another feeling as she'd stared into his eyes. Right after she'd accused him as an impostor, she had seen the brief flash of raw anguish. The widened eyes and slack jaw with eyes so dark and fearful they could only be described as haunted. And though it had not registered to her right then, it did so now. And she _knew_. She knew she was not the only one losing sleep. She was not the only one looking over her shoulder. She was not the only one consciously avoiding the walls of green hallways expecting claws to reach out. These nightmares were not _hers_, they were _theirs_. In the gallery, he'd kept them safe, he'd gotten things she couldn't reach and moved things she couldn't budge. She had kept them sane, had kept them going, and saw the important details that he'd missed. It seemed outside the gallery they had neglected each other as much as they had supported each other within it. Determination lessened the weight of the guilt on her back as her had gripped his under the table. She would not let them make that mistake again.

* * *

A/N: It's been a while. I'm glad to finally be able to finish this chapter. I like the parallel between their emotions. They just support each other so much. Though they have very different personalities, they have so much in common at the core. They definitely won't be neglecting each other now that both have resolved to be there for the other.

That's about all I have planned on doing for tonight.

Thank you so very much for continuing to read this.

Until next time friendlies,

_Dfsemina_


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.

* * *

Chapter 7

Garry startled awake as the surface he'd been sleeping on shifted as something solid was slammed upon it. As he sat up he found himself at the dining room table, staring at Ib's father who was sitting across from him. It was obvious from the man's glare that the rude awakening was intentional. He shoved the rising ire he felt for the man to the back of his mind. It would do him no good to get on her father's bad side, or rather, to prove his biased opinion accurate. He noted the coffee cup in front of the man. From the brown liquid around it he concluded it to be the culprit of the loud thud that had awakened him. He refrained from snapping at the stubborn man, but could not stop his lips from pursing in dissaproval.

"Good morning, Garry."

"Ah! Good morning, Mrs. Gallagher," he replied as she entered the dining room. He met eyes with the man across from him and he forced out a greeting.

The man merely replied with a grunt and taking a sip from his mug. Garry bit his tongue to keep himself from scolding the man. He felt a bit proud that at least his greeting, personal feelings aside, had seemed civil.

"Now, Zeke. Garry just greeted you. Won't you repay it in kind?" his wife pressed, acting as if she believed he had not heard Garry. The hard look in her eyes as they looked at each other suggested otherwise. Garry absently noted that both of her parents had the same expressive red eyes as their daughter.

He watched her father as he lifted his mug to his lips again. His angry jaw slackened enough to mutter out an insincere, "Morning" as greeting before he took another long sip. He didn't even look him in the eye.

Before his body could tense in indignation, he was startled by Vivian placing a mug in front of him. He took it into his hands, murmuring his gratitude. He took a sip out of courtesy and to give him something to do other than staring awkwardly. While this was one of his better experiences with the bitter drink, he still did not like coffee. He turned the drink in his hand, disttracting himself with the intricate blue design on the white porcelain. He heard the scraping of the chair beside Ezekiel, where Vivian took a seat and began sipping from her own mug. His thumb followed the swirling patterns on the mug and he was chagrinned to learn this was how he dealed with awkwardness. He took another miniscule sip and looked down in surprise as he felt something slip off his arm. A blanket?

"Oh, Ib pulled that over you after you fell asleep," she explained, pride in the caring nature of her daughter evident in its tone.

Garry's eyes fell to the soft fabric again and he placed down his drink in favor of letting his hands roam over it, fond smile springing upon his face. He did not notice Vivian's own soft smile at the thought or Ezekiel's worried frown. Bracing himself, he chugged down the remainder of his drink, wincing as it scalded his throat. Well, at least he finished it.

"Would you like another cup of coffee?" Vivian offered as she stood to refill her own.

Garry tried not to seem to eager in his reply. "Oh, no thank you. It was lovely but too much caffeine isn't good for me."

He stood, excusing himself from the table. He took the blanket from the chair and folded it. He waited for Vivian to return before inquiring where to replace the blanket, knowing she was much more likely to answer than her husband. He left the room and returned the blanket to its shelf, smile coming unbidden to his face again as her realized how high it was. He could imagine little Ib, hopping to try to reach it. A chuckle slipped passed his lips as the whole ordeal flitted through his mind. She'd try jumping for it first. She'd fail. Her face would scrunch up like those little bunnies she loved so much as she attempted to find another solution. She leave, come back pushing―or perhaps pulling―a chair the size of herself to the closet. She'd climb up gracefully, as only she could do, and paying careful attention to mind her footing, stand upon it. She'd stand on her toes, still a bit too short to reach it. Then, taking a bit of risk, make a tiny hop to grasp the edge and bring it all haphazrdly down with her. He could imagine that proud, triumphant smile on her face as she got down, gathered the bundle of cloth in her arms, and set off to finish her task.

As Vivian coughed discretely to gain his attention, he sheepishly scratched the back of his head and closed the closet. A light flush spread across his face as he wondered how long he'd been grinning like a fool at the closet. Her knowing smile deepened the blush and he wondered how long she'd been watching him.

She came to stand beside him and looked lovingly at the closet, no doubt thinking the same thing Garry had been. "My little girl is such an angel, isn't she?"

He laughed. "Yes." His brows furrowed as he thought of his young friend and he changed his answer. "Actually, Mrs. Gallagher... That description may not be enough."

She glanced at him in surprise, then grinned in response. She jokingly replied, "What's better than an angel?"

He paused, thinking. The woman bit her lip to trap her giggle at him trying so hard to think of an answer.

"I don't think there _is _anything. But Ib definitely has them all beat," he answered finally, firmly.

She choked back another giggle. He was so earnest. His faith and utter devotion to her daughter was adorable. She'd worried, of course, when he had first appeared. But now, she could not help but trust this boy. She knew her husband's opinion on the matter, but she could not help but disagree. She was certain this boy would be important to her life as his was indivisible from her dear daughter's. He would not leave her and dear little Ib would not want him to, either. She fancied that perhaps, in the future, this boy may become one her own. Ib was young yet, but the nine years between them hardly seemed like a gap with their comfort around each other. Besides, she thought smiling as she excused herself and walked away, there were ten years between her and her husband.

She met her husband at the door and saw him off as he left for work. She watched her husband lovingly as the car pulled out of the driveway and disappeared over a hill. She began walking to the living room, where she'd heard shuffling that could only be Garry. Her steps quickened. She was eager to hear and share more lovely things about her daughter. As she made her way over, she hummed the wedding march.

* * *

A/N: Hello, lovelies. I'm glad to put this up. It was actually meant to be the first half of a chapter but ran just a bit too long. I'm working on the other half still. I've always believed Ib's mother would be an IbxGarry supporter. I also thought it was about time that Vivian got to shine. Everyone got their little moments except her after all. No Ib this part but she is the main focus in the next one. Promise. Be prepared to get the next chapter tonight or tomorrow.

On to the next part!

Until next time, my dear friendlies,

_Dfsemina_


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.

* * *

Chapter 8

As the bell rang Ib stayed still, a stark contrast from the students around her who jumped up excitedly and ran off to recess. She waited patiently for the others to clear out before standing. One by one, she went to each desk, gently pushing them and their corresponding chairs into their proper position. The others always shoved them out of place in their rush to get outside. She sat on the ledge of the window, watching her peers play through the glass. The sun filtered through the window, the warmth making her drowsy, She didn't realize she was falling asleep until she slipped from the ledge. The sensation of falling jerked her awake and she barely caught herself quickly enough to land on her feet. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock. Recess had barely started. She debated whether resting her eyes would be worth it. She looked back at the window ledge, so warm and inviting. Finally, decision made, she slipped off her shoes―she didn't want to get dirt on the ledge―hopped back up. She curled up and closed her eyes, allowing the sun to warm her. She didn't intend to fall asleep. But the warmth coupled with the white noise of the students playing outside was calming and she drifted off.

She was shaken awake by her teacher. She kindly informed her that recess was almost over. Ib thanked her quietly and returned to her desk. She shook her head, attempting to clear the daze that came with sleep. She rubbed at her eyes, tiredly. The nap had helped, but with the amount of sleep she'd gotten last night it wasn't enough. Gradually, all the other children filtered in and resumed their seats. The teacher called the class to order. Ib roughly shook her head once more then lightly patted her cheeks to wake herself up. A flush dusted over her cheeks as she noticed those around her staring and whispering about her odd behavior. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin up, ignored her peers that were now snickering derisively, and gave all her attention to her teacher. As she listened earnestly to the older woman drone on, she told herself that she only had a few more hours left.

* * *

She pitied the teacher as the clock ticked closer to lunch time. The other students were already restless, eager to eat and play. And Ib felt guilty. She always did her best to pay attention, but she too was anxious for a break. The clock's hand shifted again and the class grew rowdier. Ib began tapping her foot impatiently. She was trying to listen to what the teacher was saying but everything seemed to go in one ear and out the other. She'd felt distracted for most of the lesson. As it commenced, she had paid adequate attention but as it had gone on her attention had been captured by the conversation the students beside her were having. She'd tried her best to ignore them. Eavesdropping was a terrible habit. But then one of them revealed a pretty, long black feather. If that was all that had happened, she was sure she could have gone back to listening properly. But as it was, it had led to another conversation that became relevant to her.

The little boy continued talking excitedly to his friend. He planned to use it on their next arts and crafts project. They bounced ideas off each other. The boy contemplated whether he should use it on another macaroni picture frame, a birthday card for his older sister, or a pirate hat to use next time they played Neverland. The girl encouraged him to use it for a pirate hat, reasoning that if the captain was easily noticable then friends could join the game without explaining who had which part. He agreed. She'd then wondered what she should do for the next project. She'd never liked macaroni picture frames, there were no ocassions she needed a card for in the near future, and there was no point in making a pirate hat if he was because they could just switch off and share it. Another friend joined in, suggesting she make a dreamcatcher. She brushed her off, stating a dreamcatcher was too difficult. They eventually decided that the boy would make a pirate hat for Captain Hook, the girl he'd originally been having a conversation with would make a Peter Pan hat to match, and the friend who'd joined in would make a headband to be Tiger Lily. They started talking about other things they could make so they could properly play the other roles, but by now Ib had tuned out.

A dreamcatcher. She'd seen them before and their purpose was definitely appealing. They were pretty, but the girl had been right when she'd said they were difficult. To get the patterns to be so perfectly accurate... She'd wondered if she could do it. She had listened half-heartedly to the lesson after the idea entered her head. And now, so close to lunch, it had solidified. It would take a bit of time, but she was sure if she was careful she could make one well. As the bell rang, liberating the children, she had finally decided on which colors to make it. She hopped up, as excited as the others. She opened her backpack, taking out her lunch. She went straight to the arts and crafts table. They had an hour for arts and crafts after lunch but she was sure her project would take a good deal of time. She took a seat, munching on her sandwich as she read through the directions. They were simple and easy to follow, yet she knew actually making it would be difficult, much like the time her mother tried to teach her origami. She cringed as she remembered how her crane had turned out. She shook off the doubt. She needed it finished today, so she needed to get started now.

She'd managed to create wrap the hoop and create the loop for hanging it by the time lunch ended. The other students clamoured in, eager to get started on their projects. She didn't notice, trying for the fifteenth time to wrap the string around the hoop properly. It was frustrating. She'd finally get the first rotation of string to be perfect, then the second would be completely off. As she tried to correct it, the first would somehow find a way to get undone. When she'd finally gotten through the second rotation successfully, she realized she'd forgotten to add beads to it. She had debated whether she should just continue and put beads on the next time around. She'd huffed in frustration, undoing her hard work as she rationalized that if she did that it would not look like her vision. She'd just finished tying the last knot to keep the beads―which she'd substituted for the normal dangling feather―on when the teacher called the end of the their time for arts and crafts. She smiled victoriously at the completed dreamcatcher in her hands. She hurriedly cleaned her area and took her seat for the next lesson to begin. She put it up to her lips and whispered a wish into the net. Carefully, she placed it into her backpack and gave her attention to their teacher.

Sitting through the lesson, her wish still remained strong in her mind. She could almost feel the tingling of power radiating from her bag. For the first time that day, she smiled hopefully.

_No more bad dreams._

* * *

A/N: I know this is a bit short. But as mentioned in before, this was supposed to be part of the last chapter. They are happening at roughly the same time. No dialogue this time either. But I figure, Ib is a quiet kid for the most part. I feel like it works. I'm excited to work on the next chapter as I already have what will happen planned. Please look forward to it! I'm working on it now, but I can't promise it will come out tonight.

On to the next!

Until next time friendlies,

_Dfsemina_


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.

* * *

Chapter 9

Ib was a patient child, but she was always the first one out of the classroom when the bell signalled the end of the school day. As she looked at the mob already forming at the entrance to the bus, she couldn't help wishing that her class was closer to the front of the school. She tugged on her scarf nervously as she joined it. Ib closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself. But as she opened them she felt worse than before. When she'd joined the mass, she'd been at the edge. But now, she found herself surrounded by others waiting to get on the bus. She clutched her scarf in small fists and tried to relax. It had been a nice day, sunny and warm. She looked around herself. The mass, ever-shifting, seemed to block out all traces of light. Smothering it. Extinguishing it. Feeling her heart constrict, she looked up, hoping to see the bright blue sky. Some sort of sign of open space, of freedom. But the patch of blue above her was not comforting. She was small, even for her age, and the bodies of those seemed to tower above her. The brightness of day behind them rendered them featureless, merely shadows surrounding her. And she could just imagine those shadows expanding, branching out into that one patch of blue, of light, swallowing it up until she was left blind. She closed her eyes, willing herself to believe that she was alone, that she didn't feel so crowded. But the illusion was shattered before it could even begin to take form, as bodies bumped into her.

She made a conscious effort to take deep breaths. She comforted herself, telling herself that she just needed to wait. Just a little bit more. She just needed to wait for everyone to get in then she'd take a seat and be done with it. It didn't help as she imagined the scenario. She'd get on and end up in a middle seat. The bus would hit bumps, take turns, and shoulders would bump into hers. She'd still be crowded. Her panic rose and she opened her eyes. She looked around herself, head whipping in different directions. She needed to get out of here. Then finally she saw a tiny sliver of light between bodies. She threw herself at the gap, not allowing herself to wait until it disappeared. She squeezed through, somehow staying aware enough to mumble out apologies to the people she was shoving.

She broke out of the mass, feeling lighter instantly. She gasped in deep breaths, savoring the taste of freedom. She starting walking home. A hand tugged at her scarf as she thought of how her parents would react if they knew she'd been walking home for the last few months. She tried every day. But she could not force herself to take the bus like she did in the past. The crowd had become stifling. In the mass of bodies, all blurring together, she couldn't help remembering.

_Darkness everywhere. The only light was from the lightly glowing neon drawings on the floor. She was alone. _

She shook her head, trying to derail the train of thought.

_Walking around, stumbling in the dark. She could feel something brush against her with every few steps she took. She whimpered out Garry's name. _

She pushed the button for the crosswalk harder than necessary.

_Feeling sore all over, reaching the elastic of her skirt to examine a rose that was not there. _

She hopped impatiently from foot to foot as she waited for the light the change.

_Panicking, running blind around the dark room. Hoping to find Garry, her rose, an exit...anything._

The walk signal came on and she hurried across the street.

_So dark. So very dark. She was barely able to stop herself from tripping over Garry on the floor. So dark, she hadn't even seen Garry until he was inches in front of her._

Three more blocks to go.

_A pink key on a pink drawing. Dim light flooding the room as all the statues, dolls, and mannequin heads that she couldn't see before started to glow. _

Two blocks.

_There were so many. All around. Getting closer. _

One more block.

_They missed the stairs the first time around._

Just a few houses down.

_Circling around. Dodging. Garry kicking a mannequin head into a headless statue. Garry muttering something about irony. Whatever that was. _

She was at the front door. Where was her key?

_Yanking a doll that clutched onto Garry's pants._

It was in the last pocket she checked. It was always in the last pocket.

_Garry lifting her up, taking steps two at a time. The thudding footsteps behind them._

She unlocked and opened the door.

_Garry opening the door and slamming it shut behind them._

Home free.

* * *

When Ezekiel returned home, he frowned at the scene in front of him. That boy never seemed to leave. He seemed to have made himself at home on their little couch and his daughter was all too happy to have him there. His frowned deepened as he looked to his wife. Smile stretched wide across her face, it was obvious the boy had somehow coaxed her to his side. It was as if none of them thought it odd that the older male was so undeniably _intimate_ with their little girl. His mood soured. They had not even noticed his presence when he'd been standing there for a good few minutes.

"Daddy!"

His dark mood disappeared in his surprise as she tackled him, wrapping arms around him tightly. Though he'd been knocked back a bit by the impact, he managed to remain upright, an arm winding its way around her automatically. His gaze soft upon her head, which was now burrowing happily into his stomach, he raised his free arm and ruffled her hair affectionately. She looked up at the gesture, pout upon her face, silently admonishing him for ruining her hair. He apologized to her indulgently, her face too earnest and innocent to be considered anything but endearing. He watched the pout melt away from her face, a subtle signal that indicated forgiveness. He took in her features: the twinkling eyes, the happy glow, the smile that adorned her face; and he felt inadequate. Because even as he looked at her expression, undoubtedly happy, he could not help but notice the darkness carved from so many sleepless nights underneath her eyes. This greeting was _right. _It had been _normal_. He knew that, remembered the fact as clear and irrefutable as day. But how long had it been since he had last gotten such an exuberant greeting from this wonderful child? Months of nightmares had chased this away, had taken away the glow from bright―in all senses of the word―little Ib. And now she was getting better. But progress had not been made until _that boy_ had come along.

He made eye contact with the boy and nodded stiffly in acknowledgement. He watched the surprise flit across his face before he caught himself and returned a polite greeting in reply. Yes, he was grateful, but he did not have to like him. He would continue to watch the boy―_Garry_―he corrected himself. But he would try―his jaw locked uncomfortably at the thought―to behave civilly. It was probably the best course of action for his daughter, but the concept made a fresh wave of resentment wash over him. Ib needed Garry. Garry helped Ib. He made the nightmares _stop_. So by the transitive property, _he _needed Garry.

But he was her father! Shouldn't _he _be the one to chase the demons away? To comfort her? To make her feel safe? Shouldn't _he _know her better than anyone? But it was Garry who seemed to come to her rescue at every turn. He'd been the _only_ one to make any sort of difference. He could see, though he tried not to, that he knew _exactly_ what she was going through. He knew _exactly_ what she needed. And he was able to provide it for her too.

He swallowed the resentment, feeling sick. His own petty jealousy would amount to nothing but harm. His thoughts were poison, something that, left unchecked, could cause the slow death of his daughter. No. He did not like the idea, and he wouldn't.

He could not help his daughter.

But he was going to let Garry do whatever he could for her.

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A/N: And another one down! I'm excited for the next chapter. I've had the idea for it since a couple chapters ago but I needed to do the lead up to it. I wasn't expecting the transition up to it to take it's own chapter though. But I like the way this turned out.

Thank you all so much for reading this bit of whimsy of mine.

Until next time friendlies,

_Dfsemina_


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